


frost god

by Servetolive



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Magic, Mildly Dubious Consent, Randomness, Sickfic, Traditional Medicine, Weird Fluff, Whump, felt cute might delete later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: Reno is sick. Cloud does what he can, with extra advice from Tseng.
Relationships: Reno/Cloud Strife
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	frost god

**Author's Note:**

> hi, author is sick, horny, bleeding, and halfway delirious. this started off as a comfort fic and then went off the rails. thanks to Coppercaps for the lovely (and hunger inducing!) chit chat about German traditional remedies and food, which Cloud does his best to replicate here. enjoy.

On returns from long missions, it was normal for Cloud to greet Reno with a long, deep kiss and a slow grind before the door closed or the latter even had a chance to drop his bag. This time, though, Cloud opened the door right into a wheezing cough, and Reno obscuring his face with the crook of his elbow.

“Don’t,” he said, waving him away as he walked inside, pathetically dragging his go bag behind him. He coughed, hard enough to shake his whole body. “Back up.”

Once he caught sight of Reno’s red, dripping nose and flushed skin, he cleared any thought he had of dry humping and gave his man the space he asked for.

“What happened?” He let the door fall shut as Reno dropped his things in the middle of the kitchen and made a bee-line to the bathroom.

Reno didn’t answer. Cloud started to follow, but stopped short when the door closed and he heard retching.

It didn’t sound good at all. He’d be sick for a week or longer. 

_Damn,_ he thought. That’ll be two weeks without them fucking. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a final, productive retch, splashing in the toilet, and more coughing. The annoyance stayed, but the desire to jump his bones finally left him.

Cloud shook his head, dropping his face into his palm. _Your boyfriend’s in there dying,_ he thought, and all you can think about is getting piped. What’s wrong with you?

Once he heard the shower run, Cloud hurried into the kitchen to put on the kettle, and started with a large pot of water. 

//

Cloud was able to intercept Reno on the way from the shower to the bed, and helped him pull on flannel winter pajamas.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” Reno resisted weakly, as Cloud finished the ensemble off with a thick, fluffy robe. “It’s the middle of summer! I’m running a fever!”

“Right, so you need to sweat the pathogens out,” Cloud said sternly, without a trace of warmth or comfort. “Go lay down.

“That sounds like voodoo-bullshit!” He complained, allowing Cloud to guide him into the bed. “Seriously, Cloud, this is--”

“Stop talking.”

It was both for Reno’s sake--he was complaining about a sore throat--and Cloud’s that Reno shut his mouth. He hadn’t been sick yet with Cloud, but the latter could already tell that Reno was the worst type of patient, and he wasn’t going to have any of it.

It’s not like he had _wanted_ to lay Reno down in bed by himself, the opposite of naked, while Cloud slaved in the kitchen trying to recreate his mother’s old remedies from memory.

He took his temperature. 38º C. Shit.

He looked at the thermometer again, and then at Reno. The space beneath his eyes had darkened, and the blush on his face and neck looked more like a sunburn than the sun-kissed rosiness that came either with going to the tropics, or sweating on top of him.

Reno coughed. His hair looked wilted, and even the shine in his green eyes seemed dull. “Is it bad, Doc?” He offered a pitiful smile that was reminiscent of what they would have without illness between them.

Cloud’s brow softened at him. He took a damp towel and pressed it against his long, sloping neck, and down between his rising pectorals.

When he lingered in one spot for too long, a warm hand caught him around the wrist.

“Stop eye-fucking me, baby,” Reno complained. Sick as he was, he still had the ability to drill sex right into their shared gaze. “I know you want me.”

“While you’re puking yourself half to death?” Cloud lied, and tossed the wet towel flat on top of his whole face, getting up from the bed to check on his stove. “Don’t make me ill.”

“ _You’re_ ill,” Reno called after him, coughing when he strained his voice. “You’re the one that wants to fuck a sick person. Weird ass.”

//

"Not you too." 

Cloud held the phone to his ear with a shoulder while he seared a giant, halved onion on the flat burner. Over the phone, Rude sniffled, hacked, and coughed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

He could imagine the redness tinting the bridge of his nose; the dark-cream color of the skin surrounding it ashen and pale. Whatever they had encountered out in the jungles of Mideel was highly contagious, and moved rapidly through the body.

Cloud bit back his frustration. Rude would have been his first go to for a booty call. He would never admit it to him, but his dick was more than a decent competitor to Reno’s. Between the two of them, there wasn’t much he could want for out in the world. 

“A doctor from HQ is coming to see me in the morning,” he said. “He’s coming to Reno shortly after.”

Cloud dropped the onion into the boiling water next to the whole chicken, and added the washed, whole carrots next. “I didn’t call for any doctor.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rude ground out. He was suffering terribly from a sore throat. “He’s coming with a pathologist. Let him in.”

They ended the call to prevent Rude from having to talk any longer. Cloud sighed under his breath and reached for the underused mortar and pestle he had bought some time ago, just because it reminded him of his mother.

 _You’re going to need these some day,_ she had told him once, when she thought he wasn’t listening. _Make sure your wife has them in your house when you marry._

Of course, she had no idea that it’d be _him_ who would become the wife, and neither did he. 

From the other room, Reno coughed loudly, continuously, and hard enough to make Cloud flinch. He was in pain, and was still trying to keep from being too loud. Stupid slum machismo.

Cloud forewent the mortar and peeled a clove of garlic.

//

“Here.” 

Reno pulled the wet cloth off of his head. He opened his eyes against the heat, and saw nothing but spots that collected into a mass of pale white, blond spikes, and then glowing, blue eyes.

“The fuck is that?” He leaned upward. “Garlic?”

Eyes hard and soldierly, Cloud grabbed him by the shoulder to sit him up. “Eat it.”

“ _Whole?_ Are you fuckin’--” Too exhausted to argue, Reno turned over on his shoulder, showing Cloud his naked back. He had taken off his clothes, against his advice. “You’re outta your mind, you think I’m gonna eat that whole.”

“It’ll clear your sore throat.”

“Yeah, by fucking burning it off!”

Behind him, he felt the weight of Cloud’s knee sinking into the mattress. He shivered when his hand touched his shoulder. “Eat it, damn it.” He tried to place the clove against Reno’s lips. Reno turned his head, and shoved it under the pillow.

“No.”

Cloud sighed again. He was about to leave Reno to his sickness, but then thought of all the times he fought his mother over the foul medicine--onion syrup and black radish honey--and how she had been soothing and patient throughout his resistance.

It was that which had cured him, he believed. Not the tinctures.

He placed the clove into his mouth, closed his eyes, and crushed it between his molars. His eyes watered. He chewed quickly, so as not to absorb the curative potency of the juices, and protected them in a pocket of saliva in his cheek.

Reno grunted when Cloud pushed the pillow off of his head.

“Lemme alo--”

That was his chance. He leaned over and pressed his mouth to Reno’s, feeding the garlic mush into him.

Reno’s eyes shot open, and he instinctively tried to push Cloud away, but he was weak and succumbed to Cloud’s weight. Cloud took his hands away and pressed them into the mattress, sliding his tongue beneath Reno’s.

“Mmph.” Tiny dew drops formed beneath Reno’s lashes as his eyes scrunched shut. He opened his torso up against Cloud, struggling weakly. Cloud tried to keep his mind free of thoughts not conducive to the quick healing of this man. 

His mouth was hot, like the rest of his body, slick with moisture. He was vulnerable. Cloud deposited the rest of the mixture into Reno’s mouth, and pulled his tongue free.

“Swallow it,” he said, taking a gentle hold of Reno’s jaw.

“You’re fucking nuts.” 

“I’m waiting.”

Cloud waited for the bulge in Reno’s throat to bob up and down. Every muscle in his body tensed with pain as the mixture passed through the open soreness of his esophagus, depositing its serums into the wounds. Reno coughed violently afterward.

The way his body quaked reminded Cloud of their last orgasm together. He shook his head.

“That--” Reno gasped, “Fucking _sucked._ ”

Before he could do anything stupid, Cloud left his side to return to his kitchen. “You’ll thank me later,” he said.

//

The pathologist did show up the next day, with an aide, completely decked out in white logoed protective gear. Cloud didn’t like that, but he wordlessly let them in, and led them to Reno.

“Oh, man,” Reno said, shifting uncomfortable in his bed. The cheese cloth that Cloud had filled with warm mashed potatoes slid off of his neck. “Not Hojo’s goons.”

They took his temperature, which was up one degree, blood samples, and spent a decent amount of time asking Reno about his symptoms. Drainage. Yellow mucous. Productive coughs. Aches. Lethargy.

They left without issuing any medical advice, besides to let Cloud know that the two of them were officially being quarantined and monitored for the next two weeks.

“ _Two weeks?_ ” Cloud folded his arms and frowned. “How am I supposed to go out and get food for him?”

“Delivery.” The doctor wrote a note, which Cloud had assumed was a prescription. Instead, it was an order for them to remain inside, which was to be taped to the door. “We’ll give you a call with the results from the test. If he doesn’t improve in three days, you’ll need to take him to Shinra General. Have a nice day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Reno said from his room, coughing horribly. “Fuckin’ assholes.”

//

He didn’t get better in three days. Cloud tried everything.

Chicken soup was constantly simmering on the stove. He made a syrup by dicing up onion and melting it in sugar. He pumped him full of plain tea, which Reno hated, and hardly ever finished.

After the black radish honey, Reno refused further herbal treatment from Cloud.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He whined. “Why can’t you just buy drugs?”

“Because they don’t work.” He offered the spoon full of the hot, bitter liquid, and Reno paled at it. Cloud saw his sides cave in, and put it away before Reno could puke into his lap.

“No more.” Cloud had his hands on either side of Reno’s chin, thumbs stroking his jawline. He was looking gaunt. “Just let me fuckin’ die.”

He was joking, of course, but Cloud didn’t think it was funny. He was seriously beginning to worry, especially with the pathologists visiting and offering no help at all.

More memories of his mother caring for him during childhood illnesses began to flood his mind. He moved Reno onto the couch, covered with a sheet, and stripped the bed daily, letting the room air out during the day. His attempt to make bretzeln to soothe Reno’s throat failed when he screwed the yeast by letting it sit too long.

The kitchen, which Cloud usually kept clean, was in a semi-permanent state of fucked.

"Cloud," Reno rasped from the living room. By then, he was listening, and remained wrapped in four layers of clothing and blankets. Cloud had given in and had acetomenaphen delivered, which at least alleviated his pain and allowed him to sit up, even if in a half daze. 

Cloud left his pots and pans and went to stand behind Reno on the couch. The heat still radiated from him. His long, damp hair was matted. 

"Call Tseng." Reno winced when he spoke. He was losing his voice. 

Cloud had never met nor spoken to Reno’s boss before. He was like a ghost to him; someone who definitely existed, but was never meant to be tangible to him. He felt anxious about speaking to him, but seeing Reno this way was beginning to disturb him.

He brought Reno his work phone and allowed him to dial the number.

//

The intention was just to elicit advice from him, but the moment Tseng heard Reno’s voice, he insisted on coming over. 

Surprised, Cloud asked, “Are you sure?”

“No need to worry.” Tseng’s smooth, even voice had a calming effect on both Reno and Cloud. “I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

Just before the phone call, Cloud couldn’t have cared less about what the kitchen looked like, but once he hung the phone up, he rushed around, doing what he could to make it look presentable. Even without having seen him personally, something about Tseng seemed regal to him. He didn’t want him to think he was doing a poor job at looking after his employee.

The doorbell rang. Cloud secured a mask around his face, put his eye to the door, and saw him there: a tall, slender man of Wutai descent, wearing a logoed black mask, but no other protective gear. He opened the door to allow him in, and stood six feet back from the entrance.

He was right about the regality, but not the anxiety. Even though half of his face was covered, Cloud could see it plainly: Tseng was beautiful. Almost too beautiful to be human, or to have a fantasy about.

Almost.

After nodding his first greeting to Cloud, Tseng gave the apartment a passing glance. 

“I hope you didn’t stress yourself too much trying to clean,” he said, his eyes closing along with a light bow of appreciation. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I am.” Somehow, he felt comfortable admitting such to this man. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Tseng had a look at the shavings of garlic, the mortar and pestle, and the half empty jar of onion syrup. “You’ve been trying remedies from the mountains, have you?”

“Yes.”

“No luck?”

“Hardly.”

“Hm.” As if he had been there before, Tseng walked through the house, carrying with him a simple black bag. “Perhaps I can help.”

The invitation to follow was unspoken, but felt, and Cloud went with him to Reno’s sickbed. He had entered so quietly, that it was a wonder to Cloud how Reno sensed his presence anyway and opened his eyes, turning his head toward his boss.

“Boss,” Reno wheezed, as Tseng set himself gently beside him, taking hold of his wrist. “You came to my deathbed?”

Tseng scoffed. “Don’t be so dramatic.” He took his pulse, and then felt his head with the back of his hand. “Has he been eating?”

Reno tried to answer, but Tseng cut him off. “I’m not talking to you,” he said.

Reno shut his mouth. Tseng turned to Cloud, who was biting his lips in an attempt not to laugh, and asked him the question directly.

“Only clear broth,” he said. “He won’t keep anything else down.”

Together, they ran down the list of symptoms, while Tseng opened his bag and began tapping small needles into various spots in Reno’s flesh--almost unnoticeably, until Reno opened his eyes again and realized what he was doing.

“Boss,” he interrupted, his glassy eyes rolling around in his sockets. “What the fuck is this?”

“Ssh. Focus. Focus on the--”

“Is this that Wutai magic hoodoo shit?”

“Be quiet.” Tseng’s next target was the very tip of his nose. “And don’t move.”

When he tapped the needle into his skin, Reno made a hilarious whimpering noise that reminded Cloud of when he was healthy. It was nice to hear.

“Boss.” Reno rasped. Aside from his shifting eyes, he didn’t move an inch, as if he were afraid that the tiny pieces of metal would tear his skin if he did. “Boss, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.”

“You look like a cactuar,” Cloud said, with a laugh.

“Fuck you, ho.” Without his voice, his imposing height and strength to back up his mouth, Reno’s wispy-throated insult sounded funnier than he had probably intended.

“Try not to upset each other.” The scolding was meant for Cloud as much as it was meant for Reno. “Since he’s suffering from wind-heat symptoms, we’ll need to cool him down.”

Cloud became somewhat defensive. “I _have_ been doing that,” he said. “Cool towels, cold drinks.”

Tseng shook his head. “No. Not cooling the flesh, but the humor. The blood.” He had been wearing a set of black gloves that Cloud had initially thought were just a part of his uniform, until he snapped them off. “In my bag, there is a sachet of tea. Can you make tea, Cloud?”

Tea was a national drink in Cloud’s native land, and he had been making it since he was a kid, but the way Tseng asked him suddenly made him doubt himself.

“I… think so?”

“Go and make that for him now,” he said. “I’ll sit with him for a moment.”

As Cloud left, he overheard Reno say to his boss:

“Why you talkin’ about me like I ain’t here, Boss?”

“I can see that you haven’t been a very good boy to your nurse,” Tseng warned, quietly. “Careful who you mistreat while you’re sick.”

“I ain’t… ugh. I ain’t mistreating nobody. I’m fuckin’ dying here.”

“You’re not _dying_ , Reno.”

“Yeah I am, Boss. I got my life insurance squared away, right? Can you check for me?”

Tseng sighed. “Sure. I’ll burn incense for you at your desk, too.”

//

By the time the tea finished brewing, which couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, Tseng had somehow soothed Reno to sleep. He took the cup instead, invited Cloud to do the same, and asked politely that he join him on the balcony.

“Reno’s infection,” he explained, “is more of a metaphysical one than a medical one.”

Cloud placed the hot cup to his lips. The moment he did, Tseng, whose back was fully turned to him, scolded him: “Don’t,” he said. “It’s too hot.”

Wide-eyed and weirded out, Cloud set the cup down on the railing of the balcony as Tseng lit a cigarette. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“Whatever happened in Mideel seems to have disrupted the flow of mako in his bloodstream,” Tseng explained. He turned his head to the side to look at him. “You know that we all have mako as a part of our bodies, do you not?”

Cloud was sure he had heard that from somewhere, but it wasn’t something that he regularly thought about. “... Yeah,” he said.

“So a balance needs to be restored to him. If he’s suffering from the overabundance of heat in his system, then he needs cold. Does that make sense?”

Cloud supposed it did, but said nothing. This was over his head.

“Do you know what your innate element is, Cloud?”

Cloud cocked his head at him. “My what now?”

“Your innate.”

Cloud shook his head. “I’m not a--”

“You don’t need to be an elemental to have an innate. Everyone has one. Is there a particular element you enjoy fighting with? Or one that you generally feel drawn to?”

Cloud thought about it. He liked them all. The heat and crackle of fire, the violence and spontaneity of lightning, the mercilessness of the cold. He shivered, and felt his blood reacting to the last memory he had of fighting with Shiva, or casting a blizzaga spell.

“Ice,” he finally said.

“Perfect. If you were fire or earth, we’d be in trouble, but Reno needs cold.”

Cloud’s face turned pink. For the last few days, he had slept separately from Reno, so as not to over heat him, but it had been difficult to do so. He had wanted nothing more than to slip under the covers with Reno, soak up the heat in his body, snake his hands between his legs, take some of his fever from him--

“... How can I--”

“I think you already know.” Tseng chuckled and placed his lips to the mug. “It’s ready now,” he advised.

“Huh?” Cloud saw his cup of tea on the rail, emitting less steam. “Oh!” He took a long, slow sip. It was bitter and earthy; not like anything grown near his homeland, but delicious, and soothing. As the hot liquid hit his stomach, he felt himself slowly being repaired in places he was never aware were injured. Sore muscles unwound themselves, and the weight in his eyes lifted.

“This is really good tea,” was all he said.

Tseng hummed, with a small smile. “Give him that four times a day. When he’s not drinking, he should be having mint and citrus fruits. Try a sanguine orange, or citrena melon.”

Tseng finished his tea, replaced his mask, and handed Cloud his empty mug. 

“Do you have an ice ring?” he asked, just before he left.

Cloud had to think about it.

“Yeah, I have one.”

“Wear that.” It was clear that he would have preferred to shake Cloud’s hand, but he simply bowed politely. “It was nice to meet you at last, Cloud,” he said, and left.

//

He put him in the tub filled with warm water and salt--an earth essence, but an essence nonetheless--and mint oils. For a time, the steam rose into Reno’s nose, opening up his chest, allowing him to be conscious.

He had surprised him by washing every inch of his body, even going between his legs with a cloth, and pouring water over his scalp to lather it with shampoo.

“Cloud,” Reno said, while the other man gently pulled a comb through his tangled hair. “Why you love me like this?”

Cloud stopped what he was doing and tried to process the question. It had been worded strangely.

Love was not a part of their vocabulary. It never had been. Cloud had simply slept with Reno one night, and had since not yet gone home. Nor had Reno asked him to.

He wasn’t in his right mind, and Cloud thought that asking him to rephrase it in that state would be cruel.

Aside from that, it wasn’t like what he was doing was entirely altruistic. There was dick on the other side of this illness. Dick and normalcy. He looked down over his bangs.

Reno’s eyes were closed, face still tinged with red, but a different kind. His mouth was parted. His breathing was stilted; uneven, like he was trying not to make too much noise, so as not to disrupt the moment of painlessness he was experiencing.

He picked up another bunch of red hair and began combing through the edges again. 

“You’d do the same for me,” he said, leaning over to press a cheek into the crown of his head. 

He wasn’t sure that Reno had heard him. When he drained the water, he didn’t react to his naked, wet skin hitting the cold air. He sat there like a limp doll, leaning against the edge of the tub.

Once Reno was dried, medicated, and in bed, Cloud took his time toweling his hair. He didn’t bother putting any clothes on him.

He slipped his finger into the ring of silver in his pocket.

//

The last time Reno had been this sick, he had been a child. His mother thought that he was going to die. She actually tried that time, and cried, cursing for him to get up.

_Quit it, you fuckin’ kid! Stop faking it and go play!_

She somehow stole enough money to make his favorite foods. He couldn’t smell or taste a thing that Cloud put in front of him besides his nasty ass mountain witch’s brew, but he could smell hot dirt in the ground and burning hecca leaves, and roasted fish in savory zeio nut sauce. It was too simple to be cuisine, and he had never missed it until then.

_You die, and I’ll leave you to rot here! Now wake up!_

He flinched when he felt her fingers near, because he knew that she would smack him him on the cheek a bit, but shivered: her hands were cool to the touch, and slid against his cheeks, her fingers pressing against the space beneath his ear.

_Wake up._

It felt so good. He lifted his chin and leaned himself into the touch. “Ma,” he wheezed.

_Ssh. Don’t wake up._

Soft lips, cold lips. A tongue like an icy drink.

Reno opened his eyes, but the darkness and his fever made it difficult to see. The spots that had formed behind his eyes when he slept stayed, like firebugs, spinning in loose circles, beckoning his focus and disappearing as soon as he looked in each one’s direction.

 _You’re so warm._

The breath was like ice too. A kiss from Shiva. A naked dance on the Northern Glacier. He felt a weight on top of him, pressing air out of his lungs. The cold wind filled them again, matching his warmth. His blood melted the hard flesh when he reached up and found muscle.

“Cloud,” he tried to say, although there was no way to be sure. He thought he might have seen the boy pull himself out of his shirt, his torso opening for him as he discarded his clothing and pulled Reno’s robes apart.

“What are you doing…?”

 _You’re fine._ Every word was like a fresh, new gust of air. Reno arched his neck back and let it touch him. He sighed at the first bit of relief he had felt for days, from the flames licking at his chest. The wet tongue created a river in the shallow dip of his chest.

He wanted to moan. His hand wound through soft spikes. He felt the ache return to his muscles when he struggled to move the way he was used to as Cloud dipped into his navel on the way down to his cock. 

_Careful._

He took Reno’s wrists in his hands and pulled them down toward him. Reno managed to lift his head up long enough to see Cloud’s face, framed by hands, and flecks of blue ice swirling in his eyes as he pressed his mouth against the hair on his pubic bone.

Reno shuddered violently.

//

He would have waited for permission in any other circumstance; for Reno to grant him access with a push on his head or a filthy word or two.

But this was medicine, not sex. 

Reno was hot in Cloud’s mouth. He could feel it underneath his skin, fighting him, pushing back to break free of Reno’s blood and overtake him. It melted his blue lips and made him salivate. 

He watched as Reno, delirious, thrashed his head from left to right and bit his lip. His fingers opened and closed against Cloud’s hands.

“The fuck you done,” he breathed through gritted teeth. 

He could have stayed down with Reno's cock in his mouth for hours, playing with the opposing heat and cold, but Reno hissed and bucked his hips beneath him.

He was torturing him, slowly. He let it slip from his mouth and climbed on top of him. 

//

It was like some kind of witchcraft. Every lingering touch left traces of frost on his skin, biting and sharp like teeth. 

"I can't," he gasped, when he felt the weight on top of him. Even though his dick had been momentarily plunged into cold, the heat was still unbearable. He could feel it behind his eyes when he shut them. His arms were still like rags.

_You don't have to._

_When he opened them, he saw Cloud's body, straddling him, the inward curve of his torso, the light in his eyes. He took Reno's hands and led them in two searing, bright lines down his chest. Cloud threw his head back._

_He felt the tip of his cock push just against his wet cunt, chilling his whole body. His muscles contracted._

__I will._ _

__Reno’s eyes shot open. The spots of light went away._ _

__//_ _

__It wasn’t like their normal fare; Cloud didn’t sink down slowly onto his cock so he could feel every vein pulsing with blood or Reno twitching inside of him to tease his spot._ _

__He slammed down on him, hard, taking him all at once, sending his nervous system into shock._ _

__It felt good. Like his mouth felt around him, but better; right in the center of him, what he had been aching for. He forgot about _why_ and allowed his eyes to drift shut and his hips to work back and over in circles. His fingers passed over Reno’s nipples and Reno cried out, his voice flickering back into existence, and locked his hands around Cloud’s wrists in a strong grip. The contact burned Cloud and he wilted. His arms buckled and his torso fell, but he kept riding, picking his head up to meet green eyes, bright with the invading heat._ _

__“You’re loving this.” It was still a whisper, but it was Reno, healthy and virile, reaching through the sickness. “You like me weak like this.”_ _

__Cloud moaned. He couldn’t say he didn’t. If he could have this, he could take care of Reno forever._ _

__“I’ve been a doll, once,” he said. An incomplete thought that didn’t need to be finished._ _

__Reno pulled Cloud forward, onto his chest, slid his arms around his waist and fucked him, working his hips upward. The exertion drenched the both of him, the heat and cold pulling at each other until they met somewhere in the middle and Cloud felt just as hot and tired as Reno felt cool and strong._ _

__“Need me to be your doll?” He kissed the side of Cloud’s head. Cloud clenched and buckled at the word “doll,” but then whispered back a weaky, feverish yes._ _

__Pleasure was one of those things that Cloud’s face made art with. When he let go of Cloud and let him ride again, he did nothing but watch Cloud burn beautifully and drain himself of every ounce of magic he had inside of him._ _

__It felt good to be nothing for him, and see him unwind for it._ _

__//_ _

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to end with an extra scene about the illness, but i don't feel good. maybe i'll add it tomorrow or something. i want my mom. and soup. *hugs teddy bear and passes out*


End file.
